And Then Came Harley
by YourDarkJester
Summary: This is my interpretation of how Joker and Harley met up. thanks for reading. joker and harley are DC Comics property.
1. Return

Stumbling up the stairs, I finally was able to swing open the door and stagger into my dingy, run-down apartment. My bones ached and my head was pounding.

She did put up a fight in my arms, little head shrink trying to dig deep inside me, trying to get my name maybe or figure out why I go out with my make-up and green hair blowing up buildings and cutting peoples' faces to be like my own. Or perhaps she wanted to unlock what happened to me as a kid, who pushed the wrong button and finally threw me over the edge...who knows. She didn't get a single relevant thing out of me, all I did was smile at her, until she felt she could...perhaps...trust me? Ha, she even decided that it would be wise to maybe uncuff me...losen my straight jacket just a little and...and she dare touch my scars. Her little hand caressing myright cheek, skinny fingers running along the grooves left in my face after the fishing wire was removed. It sent chills up my spine. She wispered "I can help you." in my ear and i cringed. It was enough. I lept to my feet, wriggled out of my bondages and grabbed her by the throat.

"You want to help?" I snarled, "Then you can show me the way out."

She kneed me in the groin and I gasped in pain. She started kicking at me but I refused to let go. I wanted out of this place and she was either going to show me the door or I would kill her and find it myself.

I grabbed her tightly and she wimpered something along the lines of "okay, okay." She got me out of the hospital wear and back in my own clothes. She led me down the hallway and let me out through the parking garage. As I began to walk away, she grabbed my arm. I glared down at her but she looked into my eyes...a look that no woman had ever really given me. I shrugged, broke free of her grasp, and continued on my way.

And now, I was here. Aching still from my scuffle with old Batsy and a semi-bruised sack from this woman's high-heeled shoe. I removed my suit jacket and wandered to my bathroom sink. I couldn't remember the last time I saw the bare skin on my face...I still had that youthful look to me, I guess, if you could see past the gashes on either side of my mouth. I ran a hand through my hair, it was getting yellowed...I'd have to fix that.

As I continued to stare at my scars, I wondered about that woman. Why? Why did she take such interest in my scars that she felt the need to run her finger over them? And why did she keep staring...I mean, people stare at me with terror, with anger, they stare while calling me "freak" and a "mad dog"..but this stare was different. I never saw any fear in her eyes, even when I was hurting her. She had a different feeling in her when she set her eyes upon me.

And for once, someone frightened me...even if it was just a little, that little jump that I did when she touched me. It annoyed me.

Ha. Ha. Ho.


	2. Smiling From Ear to Ear

I really couldn't believe it...I had never been one for sleep really, but I did like to catch a few hours of it so my mind could stay sharp..but it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I could not pass out. My mind was fogged and it raced and it seemed like whenever I closed my eyes I saw her eyes. Whenever I touched my face, I felt her fingers touching my scars...her tiny bony fingers running along the deep grooves of my injuries . I could feel her petite frame in my arms somehow and my body tingled, feeling like ants were crawling all over me.

Why was this woman plaguing my thoughts? I mean, I do tend to hold onto things, events, and people in my mind and not let the topics go, but it has never been about just an ordinary person. The Dark Knight...sure I thought of old Batsy all the time, but why wouldn't I? He was so much fun to toy with really, and he had actually thought that he could rid the world of me (and I'm sure he still thinks it.) But he, at least...had something? This woman...what did she have? She wasn't much fun at all, she never got angry at my lack of cooperation, she didn't even get scared when I had my hands around her skinny throat. She wasn't fun at all. Dare I say it, she was boring.

And if that was the case, then why was a stupid little head shrink keeping me from my much-needed rest? Was it her lack of fear?

No. No.

I let out a groan of anger and frustration as I ran my fingers over my face and dug at my scars. It was her molesting of my trademark battle scars..that must be why! She touched them...no one has ever reached out and touched them. No one is allowed to touch them. Those scars are mine. I made them with my knives during my fit of rage during my episode in my own house after he dare hit me again and fight with her and come into my room and violate my sanity and after he dare threaten her and I with the kitchen blades and carve that mark into my abdomen which resulted in my lapse of awareness which ended with him lying dead in a pool of his own blood and organs and her to scream and cry leaving me no choice but to...

I sat up in bed, staring straight ahead of me...something welling up in my eyes...

No, I put a stop to that. I got up, grabbed a blade off the table, and jabbed it into my left hand, peircing the skin in between my middle and ring finger. Ha. Haha. Ho hahahaha. Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaa...now that was more like it! Mirth filled my entire body and I couldn't help burst out into maniac laughter, my eyes wide and smiling from ear to ear. I fell backwards, smashing my skull against the floor but I kept on laughing.

Just like that day. Covered in blood, and grinning from ear to ear.


	3. It's All Part of the Plan

I woke up a few hours later, I guess. My body had fainted from the shock of the knife stuck in my hand. I myself didn't mind it, but my physical being apparently did. I was still on the floor and I ached all over, now with the addition of my hand throbbing.

I pulled myself up and shrugged. At least I was free from that boring psychiatric hospital. With all the psychopaths at Arkham, one would really expect there to be more to do or at least something more fun happening. What? Was I honestly the only maniac in town? If I was, then I might as well be dubbed the savior of this place now, because who knows how boring it would be if I decided to move out of this city and into Arkansas or something.

I rubbed my face and trudged into my bathroom. I cringed when I noticed that I had not yet reapplied my paint, and that you could still see my ripped up flesh and blood-shot eyes glaring back at me. The black around the eyes at least hid the fact that I really don't sleep well and the red around my mouth made the scars more like a reminder of why I'm like this. They must always look as they did the day I carved them. If not, I might forget how I came to be this way and why I do this. Not for justice for what I was subjected to but to show the world that I was above them. To watch the world burn.

I quickly showered, threw my clothes back on, and re-applied my war paint. I hadn't done this in a long time, so for once, I guess I looked pretty dashing (heh, I've seen the girls and how they look at me sometimes…the classic love of the bad boy or something. Just asking for me to stab their fucking brains out, if you were to ask me. Ha.)

I stepped out of the bathroom and gathered various grenades and dynamite from the crates I had next to the bed. Luckily, no one had ransacked the place in my absence (the perks of living in a nearly abandoned slum complex on the edge of town.) Placing them out in front of me, an idea struck me and I grinned maniacally. I would blow up city hall. What better way to say I was back on top than blow up the very heart of Gotham City? I giggled with excitement, which grew to maniac laughter quickly and I felt that I would rip my mouth open again from this sheer amount of mirth taking over me.

A few house later, I sat there marveling the bombs that I had just assembled. Rigged with enough explosives to blow up an entire skyscraper and stuffed to the gills in my usual playing cards of choice, they were like my very own children. And tonight, I would be a very proud papa. I chuckled lightheartedly as I packed my babies into my duffle bag and strolled out the door.

It was great to know that my beat up old Chevy wasn't stolen by the more mindless thugs of the neighborhood (then again, how many were left? Every time one pulled something on me, I carved their faces.) Usually, I walked everywhere but I always liked to drive when I was rigging places to explode. That way, getting away was much quicker.

Smiling, like always, I planted my children with care in the basement of Gotham's fine city hall. In an hour, this wondrous building would be leveled. It's Greek-like structure and Corinthian pillars would all be a thing of yesterdays. I chuckled as I climbed out through the window and back into the alley.

" Joker…" a familiar voice boomed, sending a chilly tingling down my spine.

I turned my head, grinning like the Cheshire cat. It was my best friend, Batsy, standing before me, his cape blowing in the wind and his face all too serious.

"Hello, Bats," I waved cheerfully, "And what brings the Dark Knight out here? Did you want to say hello to your old friend, Joker? Maybe, congratulate me on my escape?" I bowed, still grinning.

"Shut up, Joker," Batman snarled and swung at me.

I ducked and socked him in the gut but he knocked my hand out of the way and picked me up by my shirt collar. He proceeded to throw me up against the brick wall screaming at me. I, as usual, was not paying much attention to his words, for I was laughing my brains out at this point. The pain in the back of my head was searing and he was strangling me but all I could do was respond by laughing and laughing and laughing.

"Joker!" Batman screamed, smashing my head into the wall again this time with way more force than usual and landing an elbow on my nose, "Stop laughing! Tell me what the hell you did."

My vision was really blurred and I felt really dizzy. It wasn't all that funny right now and all I wanted was to go to sleep. Still, I chuckled and responded, "c'mom, batsy, you know I was out here buying something nice for you…you know, an apology gift for leaving you for a few days."

He wasn't liking that answer and slammed me up against the wall again, this time forcing his knee into my groin (which still was sore from that…lady.) I cried out, for the first time ever in my fights with batman, and really wanted to throw up. He loosened his grip on my neck and I dropped to the ground in a heap, gagging and spitting blood that was running from my nose into my mouth.

"Who do you plan on killing tonight, Joker?" Batman snarled, kicking me in the ribs violently and repeatedly. I must have really made him mad and to be honest, I could barely let out a giggle. This beating was jogging my foggy memories of something horrible. Still spitting, I cried out, gasping in pain and curling up into the fetal position to avoid his boots in my ribs.

The thought hit me suddenly, he'll kill me tonight. I didn't have it in me to get up and fight him off right now and there was no way I was going to let him know what I've done. I would die tonight. And it was a shame. I still had a few tricks up my sleeve that I wanted to use before old Bats did me in. this ending was rather anti-climactic.

Just when I thought it was over, I heard a loud roaring and bright lights appeared behind Batman. Was God coming to get me?

Well if it was God, He certainly drove a large luxury car. All I heard was the squeal of brakes, Batman gasp and a thud. The last thing I remember was Bats toppling over on top of me.


End file.
